From within a dome of solidified metal, her muffled voice emerged. It took a tremendous amount of Magic to perform the feat, but through uncertain means she managed to create what appeared to be a dome of iron around her. What remained of the now molten metal revealed her true form; crimson eyes and red hair, the brand of the notorious devil of yore. Sighing, she dispersed the metal back into the air and ground from whence she pulled it.
“Guess so. And don’t worry about it. I’m the last person in the world who’s going to whine about accidental fires,” Jerusalem said in response, bloody orbs fixed on Ivory’s own. For her, the more fire, the better. Even if she burned in the process, at least she would garner the experience of being burned alive. Sounded horrible, but it probably beat living anyway.
Before she uttered another sentence, she noticed movement in the soil ahead. Once again, another entity seemed to be struggling for survival and prying itself from the ground. It seemed to be constructed of wood and bark, and she cultivated warmth in her chest as the prospect of burning more shit.
Ivory Volkov | Post 8